For Such a Time

8/13/2019 For Such a Time

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For Such a TimeK A T E B R E S L I N

5


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2014 by Kathryn Breslin

Published by Bethany House Publishers11400 Hampshire Avenue South

Bloomington, Minnesota 55438

www.bethanyhouse.com

Bethany House Publishers is a division of

Baker Publishing Group, Grand Rapids, Michigan

Printed in the United States of America

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or

transmitted in any form or by any meansfor example, electronic, photocopy, recordingwithout theprior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Breslin, Kate.

For such a time / Kate Breslin.

pages cm.

Summary: A powerful retelling of the biblical story of Esther set during WWII: Blond

and blue-eyed Jewess Hadassah Benjamin must save her peopleeven if she cannot save her-

self Provided by publisher.

ISBN 978-0-7642-1160-7 (pbk.)

1. Jewish girlsFiction. 2. World War, 1939-1945JewsFiction 3. World War, 1939-

1945Jewish resistanceFiction. I. Title.

PS3602.R4575F67 2014

813 .6dc23 2013039563

Scripture quotation in chapter 5, Esther 2:11, is from the King James Version of the Bible.

Scripture quotation in chapter 37, Hebrews 10:39, is from the Holy Bible, New International Version.

NIV. Copyright 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.Used by permission of Zondervan. All

rights reserved worldwide. www.zondervan.comScripture quotation at the close of the authors acknowledgments is from the New Revised Standard

Version of the Bible, copyright 1989, by the Division of Christian Education of the National Council

of the Churches of Christ in the United States of America. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

Unless otherwise indicated, Scripture quotations are from the Holy Bible, New International Ver-

sion. NIV. Copyright 1973, 1978, 1984 by Biblica, Inc.Used by permission of Zondervan. All

rights reserved worldwide. www.zondervan.com

This is a work of historical reconstruction; the appearances of certain historical figures are therefore

inevitable. All other characters, however, are products of the authors imagination, and any resem-

blance to actual persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

Cover design by Kathleen Lynch/Black Kat Design

Front cover photograph of woman Daniel Murtagh / Millennium Images, UK

Front cover photograph of European Jews Getty Images

Author is represented by Hartline Literary Agency

14 15 16 17 18 19 20 7 6 5 4 3 2 1


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For John, my beloved


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When Esthers words were reported to Mordecai,

he sent back this answer . . . And who knows butthat you have come to your royal position for such

a time as this?

Esther 4:1214


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1

Esther also was taken to the kings palace. . . .

Esther 2:8

MONDAY, FEBRUARY 14, 1944

The stench was unmistakable.

Seeping through the walls of the two-story chalet, turning

pungent from the warmth of an oil furnace, the insidious odor

drifted upstairs to where Stella lay asleep on a window seat. It

filled her nostrils and roused her with a jerk; she struggled upright,

shielding her eyes against the bright light penetrating the glass.

Dawn. The burning had begun.Beyond the chilled pane lay the Ceaseless White. Stella gazed

out at the endless mantle of snow punctuated by clusters of

bare-limbed trees, a handful of farmhouses, and St. Jakobs

onion-shaped cupola in the distance. To the west, the nebulous

sky grew dark as the stacks of Dachaus Krematoriumbelched

gritty smoke against a colorless sun, permeating the air with a

sickening-sweet odor.

She imagined the tiny charred flakes, soaring high, borne off

to God Forsaken . . .

Despair struck like an angry fist; she grabbed at the sill, feeling


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dizzy and out of breath as she pressed her bruised forehead

against the cold glass. How was it that she still felt anything?

The nausea soon passed, and she turned from the windowaway from deathto stare at the austere whitewashed walls that

hemmed her in. Not the train, not the Block at Dachau where

shed been held for months, but a room. Her makeshift prison

for untold days.

Why was she here . . . and why had shebeen singled out? The

repetitive questions preyed on her anxiety as she began the days

ritual of scouring her surroundings for clues.Uncle Morty once said that a persons possessions spoke much

about them. Stella believed their lack often revealed more. This

room, for instance, like her dignity, was stripped bare except for

a low-slung cot and a nightstand disguised as a battered fruit

crate. Nothing elseleast of all any frivolous female comforts

that might capture her interest. No vanity with ruffled seat,

no perfume bottles, lipstick cassettes, or cosmetics to clutterits top. Even the windowpane had felt brittle against her skin,

bereft of any delicate lace curtains. With the war in full swing,

no silk stockings hung idly over the back of a chair (had there

been one) or tumbled from an open dresser drawer (had there

been one). Not even a shard of mirrored glass hung on the stark

walls. Shed simply been locked away upstairs in an empty room,

the fabled Rapunzel in her tower. Except for the hair . . .Hardly a princess, Stella thought bitterly, smoothing blis-

tered fingertips over the new growth at her scalp. She surveyed

her spindly extremitiesbarely discernible arms and legs that

protruded from the capped sleeves and knee-length hem of her

blue cotton dress. She looked more like the room: an empty

husk, lifeless, genderless. Temporary . . .

The faint purr of a cars engine drew her attention back to

the window. A black Mercedes approached the chalet, cutting a

path through the snow that concealed the road. The disjointed

white cross of the Hakenkreuz emblazoned its door.


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about medical experiments performed on prisoners. Was he a

doctor? Was that why shed been brought here?

A key turned in the lock. Stellas body bucked in reaction,launching her to her feet. She became aware of a winded sound,

a shallow, rapid rushing of airand realized it was her own

breath.

Gut, youre awake.

The stout, ruddy-cheeked Hausfraustood on the threshold.

Not the Jew Killer.

Stellas knees nearly buckled.You have an important visitor. Follow me downstairs.

Stella didnt immediately grasp the command. Fear rooted

her to a spot by the window, a sapling anchored to earth. She

could only blink at the sour-faced woman standing at the door.

Are you deaf,Jude? I said come with me!

The sharp words freed Stellas invisible fetters and she shuffled

forward, swallowing the bubble of terror in her throat. In defer-ence lay my survival, in deference lay my survival . . .

Your kind brings nothing but trouble, the housekeeper

hissed before turning to leave.

Stella ground her teeth to keep silent. She wasnt surprised at

the womans hostility. Even the wordJewhad become danger-

ous to utter. Deadly.

Following the Hausfrau downstairs, Stella felt panic escalatewith each step. She fought it the only way she knew how: by

lulling herself into a languid state that had so often shielded her

sanity. She became oblivious to the gold-gilt lithographs framed

along the stairwell and the moan of warped wood beneath her

bare feet. Dust particles swirling in a shaft of winter sunlight

from an upstairs window went unnoticed.

When pain from a protruding nail on the step finally jarred

her benumbed state, Stella blinked and stared down at the blood

oozing from her torn flesh. Her chest tightened with flashes of

memory. Bloody hands . . . gunshot . . .


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Move!

Like an ill-wakened sleeper, she raised her head to glare at the

housekeeper. What was the point in deference? She was alreadydead inside. Did it matter what they did with her body?

Fear and disgust flashed across the other womans face before

she hastily resumed her descent. Stella followed, determined to

buoy her defiance with each step

Until she came face-to-face with him.

Terror sank its claws in deep. As the housekeeper fled to the

safety of the kitchen, Stella clung to her last shred of newfoundcourage and focused on the man before her. He swiftly removed

his hat, the brim pitching flecks of snow against her cheek.

From the window above, shed imagined him much older.

Stella was surprised to see that, up close, he was nearer in age to

her own twenty-three years. His thick russet hair, shot through

with gold, lay close-cropped against his head, while eyesa

vibrant shade of greenstudied her with open curiosity. Goodmorning, Frulein.

Startled by his deep voice, Stella teetered backward on the

step. He caught her bony wrist to steady her. When she tried to

wrench free, the gloved fingers held firm. His dark brows rose

in challenge. I trust youre feeling better?

The ice from his brim numbed her cheek. Stella fought for

calm as she glanced from his arrogant face to the imposing gripon her wrist. She could smell himnew leather and pine, the

dampness of snow.

I can assure you that youre quite safe here.

Safe? Her free hand fisted at her side. How often had that

word been used, that promise given and broken at Dachau?

The snowflakes melted against her skin. Stella raised her fist

to wipe at the wetness; his hand was faster, and she flinched at

the contact of soft leather against her cheek. Would he beat her

now for being weak, mistaking the water for tears? Or maybe

criticize her first?


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But the Jew Killer did nothing, said nothing. Even his touch

felt surprisingly gentle. She watched his gaze drop to the hand

still in his grasp. In that he took care as well, as one by one heuncurled her clenched fingers. Turning her hand over, he assessed

the bruises on her knuckles and joints.

Stellas fear battled against his oddly comforting touch. The

heat she could feel through his leather glove made him seem

almost . . . human.

The raw fury in his eyes shattered the illusion. You have my

word, he said mildly. While you are here, no one can harm you.Clicking his heels together, he offered a curt nod. Allow me

to introduce myself. Colonel Aric von Schmidt, SS Kommandant

to the transit camp at Theresienstadt in Czechoslovakia.

When she made no response, he added, Lucky for you, on

my way to Munich I stopped at Dachau to see my cousin Frau

Gertz. I also chose to visit the camp while I was here and oversee

the first transfer of laborers into my command.An effort to smile died on his lips. You see, Im relatively

new to my post, so I can hardly afford mistakes. Nor am I a man

who tolerates them. When my sergeant informed me that one

body from the trains manifest was unaccounted for, I decided

to track it down myself. Care to guess who it was?

Stella shook her head, too afraid to speak.

No? Well, here you areproof of my good deed. And ifyoure wondering why I didnt put you on that train, it was due

to an inconsistency on your papers. They state you are Aryan,

Frulein Muller. So you will explain to me now why they have

been stamped .

Stella lowered her head to hide her resentment. The false

identification papers Uncle Morty had purchased for her in

secret from Berlin had done nothing to save her. Shed spent

the past several months living in quarters unfit for livestock.

Shed worked outside in the cold, wearing thin rags and wooden

clogs several sizes too big. Not even stockings to protect her feet


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from chafing or frostbite. And hungerthe Nazis had tried to

starve them all.

Answer me! he snapped at her, all pretense at politeness gone.Stellas head shot up as she choked on her fear. Gestapo. . .

at the checkpoint . . .

Gestapo did this? Why?

His eyes narrowed on her. Stellas panic exploded. He wanted

to . . . tried to . . . I wouldnt let him . . . She struggled against

his grasp. Please . . . not my fault . . . !

Enough! His grip was like iron. I told you that you are safehere. Why do you think I brought you to my cousins house?

Stella quit her struggle. The fact that hed gone to such lengths

to save her came on the heels of realizing he wasnt a doctor.

Instead of feeling relief, a cold shiver crept up her spine. What

did he want? She tried to recall further details from that night,

but could remember nothing prior to her awakening days before

on the cot upstairs.It seemed her life had changed in the span of an instant,

and this man, this Jew Killer, took credit for the act. Yet Stella

had no recollection of him. Nor did she feel gratitude. I dont

understand. Why did you bring me here?

High on the foyer wall, a Black Forest clock ticked the seconds.

Stella held her breath, every nerve attuned to the mans response.

This time his smile reached its destination. Dazzling white, itsunexpected warmth surprised and unsettled her. Only his somber

green eyes dampened the effect. Do I need a reason, Frulein?

A pause. Very well, I wanted an explanation and youve given

itmore or less. I know the Gestapos breed of men, so I can

fill in the blanks. He eyed her a long moment. Trust me when

I tell you that you are not the first to fall victim to their pranks.

Stellas throat tightened with anger. Her experience at the

hands of the Gestapo had hardly been a mere joke. She swal-

lowed her ire and said, And now . . . what will you do with me,

Herr Kommandant?


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Fatten you up like a Christmas Gnsebraten, for a start.

He glanced at her spare limbs. Soon youll return to the pretty

dove I imagine you once were.Stella looked away. Was he toying with her? Morty once told

her that her beauty would save hera changeling, hed called

his young niece, Stellas blond hair and blue eyes a rarity among

their people.

Her uncle had been wrong. Beauty was dangerous, a liability

for someone desperate to remain obscure in a crowd, inconspicu-

ous to the eyes of soldiers.She turned to him, this time her bitterness unchecked. Christ-

mas goose or fatted calf, both meet the same end, do they not,

Herr Kommandant?

The muscle at his jaw clenched. Too late, Stella realized her

foolish outburst. Horrified and amazed at her own audacity,

she braced against the expected Consequence. Surely he would

beat her, or worseFrau Gertz!

The force of his bellow nearly knocked Stella back. He contin-

ued to hold her in his grip until his cousin appeared cautiously

from the kitchen.

Get her a coat. Were leaving.

Frau Gertz bobbed her head like some peasant to a feudal

lord before she rushed toward the closet. Stella could only watch,frozen in place. The colonel promised she would be safe . . .

here. And now they were leaving.

The Hausfrau returned with a coat disguised as a frayed white

shawl.

Have you any shoes, Frulein?

He sounded impatient. Stella gaped at her bloodied feet, her

mind seized by more forgotten memories. Someone at Dachau

had taken her shoes, her clothes . . .

She knelt naked in the snow, her soul seared with humilia-

tion, her body numbed by cold. Faces streaked with dirt and


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pity surrounded her as though she were some freak in a carnival.

Soon guards dragged her away. Her flesh burned with pain, then

fear. Fear for the little hands shoving a bundle in her direction.A blouse . . . little hands in danger . . . crying hands . . . struggle

with the guards . . . the crack of a rifle . . .

Images ripped through Stella like shards of glass. She hunched

forward, dizzy with pain, her eyes shut against the brutal past.

I will not ask you again!

The colonels frighteningly cold voice sounded a thousand

kilometers away. She clawed her way up through the terrifyinghaze and struggled to recall his question. Shoes . . .

Gone, Stella managed to say before her knees buckled. She

collapsed toward the floor just as he caught her and hauled her

against him. She made a puny attempt to push away, but his strength

clearly outmatched hers. Exhausted, she slumped against him, only

vaguely aware of the shawl being placed across her shoulders.

She cried out in protest as he lifted her into his arms. Thatseemed to fuel his anger. You fed her while I was away, didnt you?

Oh, she ate. Frau Gertzs blunt fingers bunched in the folds

of her white apron. She ate food enough for three people! Then

she threw it up on my floor. Now she refuses anything but broth.

The Hausfrau shot an accusing look at Stella, as if demand-

ing corroboration. Stellas face heated. Shed been so hungry. Af-

terward, shed sworn that no one, especially this nasty woman,would ever again witness her humiliation. So far, the broth

seemed safe enough.

What about clothing, cousin? The colonels tone held an

edge. I had assumed that for the week I left her in your care,

my money would more than compensate you for your trouble.

But you said to use discretion, the Hausfrau whined. How

could I go to town and buy new clothes without the tradesmen

asking questions? She is so much smaller than me

Im done with excuses! Now give her yourcoat, and shoes

for her feet. Schnell!


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His bark sent her running back to the closet. She returned

with a voluminous black wool coat and a pair of dirty pink

house slippers. My other shoes are still at the cobblers. . . .Her voice trailed off. The colonel was staring at the boots

on her feet. The Hausfrau looked alarmed. Stella felt a spurt

of vindication. Please, cousin.

Before she could utter another plea, he swore and snatched

up the clothing. He wheeled around and departed with Stella,

leaving a startled Frau Gertz in his wake.

Outside, his driver held the car door open. Once the coloneldeposited Stella against the seat, he offered her the coat and

slippers. She took them before scooting to the far end of the

car. His hulk-like frame followed her inside.

The engine of the Mercedes roared to life while heat blasted

from vents in the cars dashboard. Stella bit back a blissful sigh

as she hugged the borrowed coat to her chest. Casting a sur-

reptitious glance at the colonel, she found herself caught in hissteady, impenetrable gaze.

A brief moment passed before the line at his mouth thinned

and his features hardened, as though hed reached some dis-

tasteful conclusion. Alarms began going off in Stellas head as

he reached a gloved hand deep inside his coat . . .

A gun! He was going to shoot her! She grabbed the doors

handle and pulled. Locked! A scream lodged in her throat asshe shut her eyes, pressing her body hard into the leather seat

Put this on.

Her eyes flew open. She swallowed her cry when she saw he

held not a pistol but a womans red hairpiece. He offered it to

her. As youve discovered, papers mean little at this stage of the

war. We dont want you looking too conspicuous.

With unsteady hands, she fitted the wig so that the strands

fell about her shoulders.

Youll get across the Czech border safely enough, he said

when she finished. But the color doesnt suit you, Frulein.


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Ignoring the petty insult, Stella turned toward the window

and struggled to regain her composure.

Outside, emerald fir and barren poplars rushed past the caras it sped along the winding ribbon of road into Germanys

lower wine country. The war hadnt yet touched this pristine

countryside; instead of burned-out buildings and cratered fields,

she saw only arbors, barren of fruit, cast against a backdrop of

snowy white. In summer their latticed bowers would again be

laden with plump grapes, peacefully unaware of the suffering

only a few kilometers away.Freiheit. Freedom. Stella gazed out at the forested hills and felt

a stab of yearning like physical pain. She embraced it, ridding

herself of fear as fury from the past several months replaced it.

Fury at the old God for abandoning her. Fury at this new one,

the uniformed monster beside her who now controlled her life.

Silence stretched with the miles, and though she burned with

questions, Stella was grateful for the respite. She had no usefor small talk with this Nazi, and having to answer more of his

questions could only become a dangerous undertaking.

At Regensburg, a town near the western bank of the Danube

River, the colonel ordered a halt at a local Gasthaus. He dis-

patched his driver, Sergeant Grossman, to go inside and procure

three lunches. He then turned his attention to her.

Your papers state you are from Innsbruck. I too am Aus-trian, from the little town of Thaur, not far from there. His

penetrating eyes looked at odds with his smile. I once knew

a man by the name of Muller: Tag Muller. He and his family

lived in the town of Innsbruck, where I ventured often as a boy.

Are you any relation? Im sure I would not have forgotten you.

Stella shook her head, glancing at the bruised hands in her

lap. Mentally she cursed her false papers. In all of Europe to

conjure a birthplace, Morty happened to choose this mans

backyard and the name of a family friend!

Well?


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She moistened her dry lips. Muller is a common name.

True. Is your family still there?

Again she shook her head, refusing to look at him. Stelladesperately hoped he would mistake her silence for grief and

stop asking questions. Her ploy failed.

Speak! He grabbed her chin and turned her face until their

eyes locked. I trust, since you have the ability to make rash

remarks, that you can also make intelligent conversation.

Trembling beneath his touch, Stella did not look away. My

parents died when I was five. That much was true, anyway. Ihad no other family, so I was taken in and raised by their closest

friends. A spurt of defiance made her add, They were Jews.

Expecting a violent reaction, Stella was surprised when his

grip on her eased. In fact, he looked only mildly curious. Your

papers also state you have performed clerical work. Did you

attend school at Innsbruck?

Yes. It was another lie, though Stella hadreceived instruc-tion, but not in any schoolnot past the age of thirteen when

Nuremberg law forbade Jews to receive an education. Instead,

Mrs. Bernstein, a retired schoolteacher living upstairs from their

old apartment in Mannheim, had tutored her in the basics of

bookkeeping and clerical skills.

How well can you type?

Stella straightened in her seat. Did he have need of her abili-ties? Very well, Herr Kommandant, she said. I also know

shorthand and general accounting. She tried to repress her

optimism, painfully aware of the Nazis verbal traps.

He seemed genuinely pleased. Id hoped as much, Stella.

The sound of her name on his lips disturbed her, as though

linking them together in some intimate way. Stella wanted noth-

ing personal between them. Shed much rather hate him.

Sergeant Grossman returned with their packages of food.

As he began passing them through the open car window, Stella

noticed his left wrist bore no hand; the steel hook in its place


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both frightened and moved her as she watched him struggle

with his burden.

The colonel offered her a boxed lunch. Stella vehementlyshook her head.

You will eat, he growled. Not only did your bones cut into

me while I carried you, but you weigh less than a pair of my

boots. And if you starve yourself, well . . . He shot her a calcu-

lated look. We wont be able to plan out your future, will we?

An artful strategist. She took the box, hating that hed cor-

rectly guessed that her curiosity at his statement would outweighany risk of nausea. She concentrated on taking small bites of

the cheese sandwich and apple slices packed inside while her

attention strayed back toward the miles they had crossed.

Relax. The colonel read her thoughts. Dachau is only a

speck in the distance.

She paused with a dried apple slice halfway to her lips. What

of those who still suffered?There was no hope for them. Unlikeher, they wouldnt be rescued.

But was she safe? Stella stared at the man beside her, this Jew

Killer who had taken possession of her. With or without false

papers, her life might only stretch as far as the next hour. What

did he really want with her? Why had he taken her from Dachau?

Would he ever let her go free?

Her throat ached at the unbearable uncertainty. Lord, please

let me know my fate.

Silence. Had she expected otherwise? What is my future,

Herr Kommandant? she managed to whisper.

That depends on you, Frulein. His smile was enigmatic.

Can you act as well as you type?


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2

Esther had not revealed her nationality and family

background, because Mordecai had forbidden her

to do so.

Esther 2:10

Halt!

The Mercedes rolled to a stop in front of a manned

gate at the border blockade into Czechoslovakia. A soldier in

the brown uniform of the Sturmabteilung marched to their car.

Stella cast a nervous glance at the colonel.

Stop looking guilty, he whispered, but his smile held a per-

ceptible tightness.Stellas anxiety intensified. Her safety depended on the colo-

nel. He was the enemy, true, but whatever his motives, hed so

far shown her considerable concern.

The border guard standing outside her car window was a

different matter. If their ruse failed, not even the colonel could

save her. The Brownshirts would shoot her dead.

The soldier pinned her with a glare as he barked an orderat Sergeant Grossman to produce their identification papers.

Stellas nostrils flared with the sharp tang of fear. She began

fidgeting with the red strands of her hair until the colonel caught


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her hand in his and gave it a gentle squeeze. Whether a silent

reprimand or a token of encouragement, the small gesture helped

her regain a measure of control.Herr Colonel!

The car door on Stellas side flew open.

Where are the womans papers? The Brownshirt waved

their documents in his hand.

The Frulein needs no papers. Shes with me.

The young guards face reddened. But this is highly irregular,

Herr Colonel. She must have papers!Im running late, Corporal. Now the colonel sounded bored.

Do you purposely delay my urgent business for der Fhrer?

Nein, of course not. The Brownshirt glanced behind the

car. Relief swept across his features. Please, you will wait here

a moment, Herr Colonel.

Sergeant Grossman stared into the rearview mirror. Ge-

stapo.Stella followed the colonels backward glance to a black un-

marked car pulling up directly behind them.

The colonel muttered an expletive, then said, Thats all I

needthose sniffing dogs. He gripped Stellas shoulder. It was

necessary to bend a few rules in order to get you out of Dachau.

No matter what happens, say nothing to them. Verstehen?

Hair prickled at her nape. She nodded, ignoring the pain ashis fingers dug into her skin.

A fleshy-faced, stocky man in black leather appeared at the

open door. Stella had the fleeting thought that this Gestapo pig

actually looked like one. His snout nose was wedged between

a pair of rounded spectacles, while his eyes shone like black,

wet beads behind the frames. They scrutinized the colonel and

then stared at her. Get out of the car, Frulein.

Pig-nose uttered the toneless command from lips too red and

thick to be considered masculine. Stella couldnt rouse herself.

She froze, unable to look away.


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His beady eyes narrowed while his nostrils shot twin streams

of billowing steam into the cold afternoon. He unholstered his

pistol, drew back the slide, and took aim. Get out, now.Instinct pushed Stella back against the solid wall of the colonel.

She turned to him, knowing her bloodless face conveyed panic.

The muscle at his jaw compressed with fury as he gave her

a flicker of a nod.

Pig-nose stepped back while Stella clambered out of the car.

Air froze in her lungs as icy slush pooled inside the slippers;

she felt her joints ache all the way up to her teeth. Drawing inseveral shallow breaths, Stella raised her gaze to him.

Pig-nose stared at her ridiculously shod feet. Give me your

papers, Frulein.

Two uniformed men approached to stand on either side of

him. Pig-nose glared at her. Stella struggled against gravity, tilt-

ing her chin to meet his scowl. Cold moisture trickled down her

back as the silence ticked off in seconds, palpable sounds likethe pulse pounding in her ears.

She didnt hear the car door open. Nor was she more than

vaguely aware when the colonel moved to stand beside her.

Heres what youre looking for, Captain. He thrust her

identification papers into the outstretched palm.

Pig-nose scanned the documents. These have been marked

,Herr Colonel.His gloved hand whipped out and tore away the red wig.

Cold pierced Stellas exposed scalp, stinging her ears. So, it

seems, has she.

The murky eyes behind the glasses barely registered surprise.

Take off the coat.

With jerking motions, Stella removed the warm garment.

Pig-nose then grabbed her left wrist, exposing the numbered

tattoo near her elbow. She has all the attributes.

He cast another mocking smile at her dirty, water-soaked

slippers before he crumpled her papers and tossed them to the


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ground. Stella watched the remnants of her life grow damp and

soiled in the dirty snow like so much refuse.

He signaled the guard on his right toward the colonels car.We will need more details on this matter, Herr Colonel. You

and your party will accompany us back to the Gestapo office

in Regensburg. My man will escort you.

More courteous words; their ominous weight buried Stella

like an avalanche. She struggled to breathe, tasting the danger

in them, the promise of death.

That wont be necessary, Captain.The colonels congenial tone was welcome relief. Stellas ex-

hausted limbs, numbed with cold, wavered beneath her.

I requested Frulein Muller months ago from Austria,

the colonel continued smoothly. She glanced at him as he gave

her arm a warning squeeze. She was my brothers secretary

in Linzhe generously allowed me the use of her services at

Theresienstadt, where Ive been assigned as Kommandant bythe Reichsfhrer. Unfortunately she was arrested on her way

to Munich, where we were to meet. If youll check her papers

closely, youll see the mistake.

He smiled a cold smile. Himmler himself admitted it was

great luck that I happened to find her at Dachau, though he

was perturbed that the Gestapos error delayed me in reaching

my new post.The colonel was a better liar than she was! Stella watched

as his implied intimacy with the same powerful man who also

controlled the Gestapo had its desired effect. Pig-noses red smirk

faded. He straightened and holstered his pistol.

His speculative expression darted between Stella and the

colonel. Then he snapped his fingers at the man beside him and

pointed to the crumpled, water-stained wad on the ground. The

orderly retrieved Stellas papers, and Pig-nose made a great show

of rereading them before he thrust them back at the colonel,

along with Stellas red wig.


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I trust you will inform Herr Reichsfhrer that Captain Otto

Meinz, of Gestapo Regensburg, gave you no cause for further

delay, Herr Colonel?I will, of course, report your expediency in the matter, Cap-

tain.

Pig-nose thrust out his arm. HeilHitler!

The colonel returned the salute as he lifted Stella by the waist

and stuffed her back inside the car. Tossing the wig in after her,

he slammed the door and got in on the other side.

Pig-nose signaled the guard to open the gate. Glancing back inat Stella, he offered her a curt nod. She could hear his bootheels

snap together. My apologies, Frulein.

Inclining her head slightly, she shrugged back into the coat

and stifled her giddy relief as the Mercedes rolled forward.

Plowing eastward, they gradually ascended along the base

of the Sumava Mountains into the Bohemian Forest. Steel sky

vanished, replaced by a thick canopy of pine and fir mergingalong either side of the road. Shadows inside the car danced

with occasional breaks in the trees as the Mercedes sped along

a road largely cleared of snow. No doubt German Panzersand

the tank troops had been through recently.

Give me your feet.

Stella shot him a startled look.

Now, before they become completely useless. The colonelreached for her legs, swiveling her around in the seat to settle

them against his lap. Tearing away the water-soaked slippers, he

removed the muffler from around his neck and wrapped her bare

feet, briskly massaging her heels, soles, and toes. Stella winced

at the pain of blood flowing back into the nerves.

You did well back there. His grim expression belied the com-

pliment. I trust Ive now sufficiently answered your question?

Rattled by her confrontation with the Gestapo and distracted

by the needles pricking her sore feet, Stella nodded in reflexive

obedience. What question, Herr Kommandant? she asked.


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Heat bullied its way up her cheeks at his amusement. Dis-

gusted at her own bottomless well of humiliation, she added

the obvious. Im to be your secretary then.The cars shadows disappeared along with the deepest part

of the forest. Stella caught the colonels silent assent and relief

flowed like honey through her limbs. It seemed she would live . . .

at least for a time.

Actually, one of my reasons for traveling to Munich was

to obtain an assistant. But then I found you at the camp and

saw that your papers listed clerical skills. In the dimness sheglimpsed the slight shrug of his broad shoulders.

I am taking a chance on you, Frulein Muller. His brusque-

ness stifled her newfound assurance. That does not mean I

tolerate marginal work. Im a demanding employer, so your

best had better be good enough.

Nor will I permit deceit. Theres enough political intrigue

stalking my back within the Reichwithout adding your nameto the list. Your loyalty belongs to mehe leaned close so that

his warm breath grazed her cheekand no one else.

His nearness, as well as her vulnerable position, with her

legs pinioned across his lap, amplified the tremor along Stellas

spine. Shed already lied to him; her whole life had become one

big falsehood. I wont deceive you, she said, unable to look

him in the eye.Excellent. Because as easily as I netted you from that cess-

pool Dachau, I can toss you back.

I understand perfectly, Herr Kommandant.

I believe you do. He rested back against the seat and con-

tinued massaging her feet. Humor touched his voice. I suspect

your intelligence is only matched by your beauty.

Stella set her chin as she glanced at her battered hands and

bony wrists. She turned to stare out the back window, refusing

to let him see how his insults affected her.

He paused in his ministrations. You doubt my sincerity?


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She pretended not to hear him, but the pressure of his hand

on her cheek brought her around to face him. Beneath hollowed

cheeks and bruises, beauty sleeps.He spoke aloud as though to himself; his somber green eyes

darkened to the depths of the forest they had just passed. Stella

refused to fathom the reason it disturbed her.

Wounds to the flesh eventually heal, Frulein, he said, re-

leasing her. Your beauty will return soon enough.

What about wounds to the soul, Herr Kommandant?

She instantly regretted the question. Yet he didnt seem angry;his features registered only mild surprise, then resettled into

their matrix of hard angles and planes. A much more complex

injury, he said. One for which I have yet to find a cure.

His dispirited tone made her wonder at its cause. From the

moment shed first spied him through the window of the chalet,

hed worn a furrowed brow and a hard line at his mouth, as

though another, more intimate battle raged.Stella shunned any further consideration. He wasnt worth

ithed already made it clear he would send her back to Dachau

without a second thought. Shed learned enough of the SS ways

to know he meant every word. This reprieve shed been granted

could all change in an instant.

Disquieted, she removed her legs from his lap. Thank you,

Herr Kommandant. Im much better now. She unwrapped herfeet and offered the scarf back to him.

Keep it.

Of course he wouldnt want it backit was stained with

her blood, her filth. Stella blushed as she wadded the cloth into

her lap.

She darted another glance at him. The colonels sizable frame

took up most of the seat. His head rested back against the leather,

a briefcase near his feet. The same brass-topped cane shed no-

ticed earlier lay propped against the door. She wondered at the

nature of his injury. He had managed to carry her with such ease.


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He seemed preoccupied staring out the window. His head

bobbed slightly with the cars motion. Perhaps he planned the

first execution of Jews at his new concentration camp. Or de-cided on Consequences with which to abuse her people first,

like the SS guards at Dachau.

Her tormentors had invented many such Consequences. One

particularly sadistic sport, which Stella had likened to a game

of Katz und Maus, involved the guards acting like sly felines as

they waited for a prisoner to cross the assembly grounds. After

sufficiently torturing their Maus, what remained was cartedoff to the Krematoriumsometimes dead, sometimes not.

Stella knotted the scarf in her hands. What would her Conse-

quence be if she didnt type fast enough or she misconstrued one

of the colonels dictated letters? Mrs. Bernstein had reprimanded

her often enough about her shorthand

The worst is over, Frulein. Relax. The colonel studied her

as he nudged her back against the seat. Are you warm enough?Stella nodded. Another lie, but he would hardly care that her

months of shoveling snow trenches at Dachau had left a chill

that refused to go away.

Get some rest. Well be home in a few hours.

Home . . . Leaving behind the lofty slopes to descend the

mountains into Czechoslovakia, Stella looked out at the patch-

work swells of white amidst evergreens that swept past the car.She was reminded of the quilt shed made, a surprise birthday

gift for her uncle. That was before the Nazis destroyed it along

with the rest of their possessionsbefore they took Morty away.

Lord, why dont you hear me? Why have you taken away

my joy?

Anger battled her exhaustion with the drowsing lull of the

cars motion. Home was a place that, even if she lived, would

never be the same.


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Wake up, Meine Ssse.

A deep voice beckoned her toward consciousness. My sweet . . .

Stellas lashes fluttered open. Moonlight flooded the backseat of the car. She blinked and turned her head to stare out

the window.

Nightfall replaced the days dingy sun; the sky now seemed as

dark and unfathomable as her future. Only the moon animated

the Ceaseless White, bringing into sharp focus the barbed wire

and searchlights of Dachau. . . .

Nein! she screamed and launched forward in the seat. Bloodpounded in her ears as dark spots crowded her vision. It had

all been a cruel trick

Breathe!

Rough hands forced her head down between her knees. Voices

buzzed against the roaring pulse in her brain.

. . . do you understand? Youre safe! The colonels words

finally penetrated her fear. Weve arrived at Theresienstadt.Not Dachau. Stellas breathing slowed. The pain in her chest

eased. She tried to raise her head, but he held her still. Did

you hear me? You will not be afraid. This is your new home.

She moved her neck in an effort to nod. Ja,she gasped.

He released her. She eased back against the seat, feeling light-

headed and vulnerable. She instinctively drew away from him.

You act as if I would bite. His voice held a trace of mock-ery. Anyway, I prefer a meatier dish. Perhaps once youve been

properly fed?

Stella hugged herself while his tasteless attempt at humor

hung in the air.

Sergeant Grossman opened their door.

Enough. Come. The colonel got out first, then gestured to

her. Before she could reach for the soggy slippers, he pulled her

from the car into his arms.

She stared back toward the barbed wire and glaring search-

lights that had frightened her. Beyond the cordoned-off section


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rose a fortress, high and formidable. Were the prisoners inside?

The stronghold didnt look like a concentration camp; no sen-

tries marching, no barking dogs. The place seemed deserted.Well, Frulein, will it suit you?

Stella tensed before she realized the colonel wasnt looking

at the fortress but at a lovely two-story brick house directly

ahead. Pointed tips like sharp teeth rose from the picket fence

surrounding the yard. Im to live . . . here?

Would you rather live over there? He angled his chin toward

the fortress.Nein! She had an inkling of what lay beyond those walls:

deprivation and incarceration, two conditions shed gladly forgo

to live in this charming house.

Then I trust youll behave yourself. But his tone held no

threat as he carried her toward the house.

They had reached the latticed gate to the yard when a mans

crisp voice sounded behind them, Heil Hitler, Herr Komman-dant.

The colonel swung around to confront two soldiers garbed in

the black uniform of the SS. Like a pair of stout oaks laid bare

to the cold, they stood dark and rigid before their commandant.

Ah, Captain Hermann. I trust my camp is still in one piece?

Jawohl, Herr Kommandant, said the officer who had spo-

ken. Only a few troublemakers. The captains expressionremained cold, impassive. Sergeant Koch and I handled the

situation.

Beside him, the sergeant grinned, his gold-capped front tooth

gleaming in the moonlight.

Hermann turned his icy stare on Stella. A chill grazed her nape

as she realized shed left the red wig in the car. Youve captured

a runaway Jew, Herr Kommandant? he asked with a smirk.

Nein, Captain. The strong arms that held her tensed. A

secretary.

With all due respect, she looks like a J


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Shes not, Captain. The colonels tone held an edge. Merely

a victim of circumstance. You must trust me on this . . . or do

you doubt my loyalty to the Reich?Of course not, Herr Kommandant!

Gut. He kicked open the latticed gate with a polished boot.

If theres nothing else . . . ?

Nein, Herr Kommandant, the captain said, and he and

the sergeant saluted.

The colonel turned and continued with Stella along the shov-

eled walk toward the front door. She glanced over his shoulder atthe pair still at the gate. Even in the moonlight she could see their

contempt. Every female instinct in her recoiled as she watched

Hermanns harsh expression turn deliberate, covetous

Are you afraid Ill drop you, or do you try to strangle me?

Her gaze turned back to collide with the colonels amused

look, and she realized her arms were wrapped tightly around his

neck. Blushing, she loosened her grip. Herr Kommandant, I . . .The front door burst open, spilling golden light onto the

porch. A scrawny boy stood at the threshold, a yellow Mogen

Dovidstar sewn to his blue jacket. He couldnt be more than

seven or eight years old.

Annas age.Stella sucked in a breath and shoved away the

memory.

The boy eyed her curiously as he doffed his overlarge browntweed cap and stepped back to let them enter. Guten Abend,

Herr Kommandant.

Good evening, Joseph.

The colonels tone held genuine warmth, which surprised

Stella. He crossed the threshold into the foyer before releasing

her to stand beside him. Her toes sank into a thick Aubusson

carpet, the luxuriant fibers soothing her raw feet.

Come, stand by the fire.

Loath to move from the spot, Stella nonetheless followed him

into the main living room. A blaze crackled in the hearth, and


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its welcome heat raised gooseflesh along her skin. The smell

of fresh-baked bread wafted into the room, and she felt a sud-

den, ravenous hunger. Cramps seized her belly all the way toher throat, saliva flooding her mouth with such force she had

to swallow. She took a deep breath to stifle her anxiety. Would

she disgrace herself at his table?

Joseph, ask Helen to prepare an extra plate for supper.

The boy, having taken the colonels cane and briefcase from

Sergeant Grossman at the door, set them near the hearth and

disappeared into the kitchen.Ill get you a chair. With only a few long strides, the colonel

crossed the living room to pluck a heavy leather armchair from

the foyer and carry it back to the hearth. Sit.

She complied and again wondered at his need for the cane.

He seemed fit enough.

The colonel shed his greatcoat, then assumed an imposing

stance beside her. He stared into the fire, their communal silencebroken only by the pop and crackle of orange flames licking

over fresh logs.

Stella turned to look up at him openly. Without the heavy

coat he was still a broad-shouldered man. Decorations littered

his tailored black uniform; among the rows of medals and rib-

bons covering the area over his heart, he also wore the highly

distinguished Knights Cross.She quickly shifted her focus back to the fireplace. The rare

commendation was given only to officers with exceptional valor

in battle. Morty too had received a Knights Crossthe most

coveted of all, the Grand Cross. Hed earned the prestigious

medal during the first Great War when hed fought for Germany.

The same country that now turned its back on him because of

his Jewish blood.

Fear and resentment flooded her. Had the colonel received his

commendations for true valor . . . or for killing Jews? A man of

his size and strength could easily kill someone like her.


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There is a study that adjoins the library, which serves as

my workplace.

Stella schooled her thoughts as he pointed to a set of doubledoors off the living room. You should find everything you need

at the desk Ive installed there. If you require anything else, let

me know. Breakfast is at seven each morning. Work will com-

mence at eight. He gave her a sharp look. Miss either one

and youll discover the limits of my good nature.

Weekends are your free days. You will of course be restricted

to the immediate house. With an armed escort you may visitthe woods at the back of the property.

He reached to trail a finger across the blond stubble at her

scalp. Only until you put on weight and your hair grows out

a bit more. Its for your protection. We cant risk a mistake.

No hint of cruelty colored his voice, which made the danger

he spoke of even more real. She hugged her waist and nodded.

Joseph will show you to your room upstairs. He signaledthe boy returning from the kitchen. Im sure youd like to . . .

freshen up before supper.

Stella glanced around at the colonels beautiful home before

staring down at her bloodied feet. Shed soiled his expensive

carpet. Of course, Herr Kommandant, she whispered.

Schnell, Frulein. Supper is ready and I am starved.

She refused to look at him as she struggled out of the com-fortable chair and walked to where Joseph waited by the stairs.

Fifteen minutes, Frulein Muller. Any longer and Ill come

after you myself, because you willeat. I need an important let-

ter sent to Berlin in the morning and I wont have you fainting

from hunger in the middle of my dictation.

Stella turned at the colonels good-natured threat. His humor

and consideration threw her off-balance. It also bothered her

that when his features relaxed, he was a handsome man. She pre-

ferred to maintain her view of him as the grim-faced killer whose

presence alone sent armies running in the opposite direction.


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She finally followed the boy up the carpeted steps, assailed by

new emotions she wasnt prepared to deal with. Except guilt

that heavy weight threatened to smother her. A warm house,delicious-smelling food, and a place to sleep while others died

in the cold.

The colonel had told her his reason for rescuing herthat he

needed a secretary. But once she no longer resembled a prisoner,

would he allow her to leave?

And in the meantime, could she forget who he was? What

his kind had done to her?Never.


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3

He assigned to her . . . the best place in the harem.

Esther 2:9

It was the loveliest room shed ever seen.Stella leaned against the doorjamb and marveled at the pro-

fusion of ivory lace curtains draped across an elongated window

above the single bed. Matching ivory pillows sprawled against

a blue chenille coverlet, while beside the bed sat a mahogany

nightstand; a lavish Girandole crystal lamp rested against its

polished surface, along with a small book and an exquisite clock

of inlaid pearl. An armoire in the same honey-toned wood stood

along the opposite wall.Crossing the threshold, she tossed her borrowed coat onto

the bed. A framed watercolor beside the armoire caught her

attention: A young girl in a red, beribboned straw hat lay in the

tall grass of a sunny meadow. Yellow pansies, vibrant against a

blue stream, surrounded her.

The picture seemed quiet and peaceful, blissfully silent. Un-

like the noisy, crowded Block at Dachau where Stella and other

female prisoners had been crammed together like a tin of sar-

dines. She breathed a wistful sigh. Solitude was a luxury shed

once taken for granted.


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Moving deeper into the room, Stella spied a narrow door

off the bedroomher own personal bath! She rushed inside

and stood in the middle of the small, tiled room. How longhad it been since shed bathed in a real tub? Or slept in a

feathery bed?

Was it a trick? Why would God now tempt her with hope . . .

after all shed been through? Yet she couldnt deny the feeling,

as alien and vague as her freedom.

Stella returned to the bedroom. The boy still hovered at the

door. Youre Joseph?He stared at her, then dropped his gaze and nodded.

How old are you?

His face shot up. Long brown lashes lowered slightly. Ten.

Older than Anna.Stella blocked the memory as swiftly as it

came. The boys clothes were clean but worn and hung loosely on

his small frame. He seemed so fragile; no wonder shed thought

him younger at first.Shed also failed to note his missing right ear.

How old are you, Frulein?

Stella found a smile, despite her cracked lips. You should

never ask a lady that question.

His olive cheeks bloomed with color.

Twenty-three, she relented. How long have you lived here,

Joseph?A yearin the ghetto, anyway. I only been with Herr Kom-

mandant about a month.

Does he treat you well? Stella tried not to stare at the bloody

scab where his ear had been. If the colonel did this to him, then

her own fate would surely be worse.

I like it here. The works easy and I get to eat all the Ksespt-

zleI want. I even got my own bed.

Maybe the colonel hadnt hurt the child. Stella thought of

the two soldiers shed just seen outside. Her heart raced as

she struggled to recall their names . . . a captain . . . Hermann?


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Yesand Sergeant Koch. Easing out a breath, she asked the boy,

What about the other Nazis?

His features tensed, and she closed the distance between them.Listen to me, Joseph, she said as she crouched to his level. I

know the cruelty they can inflict. I give you my word I wont re-

peat what you tell me. But I must know . . . what to expect here.

His intelligent brown eyes studied her with an intensity be-

yond his tender years. Youre Jewish, arent you, Frulein?

Nein! She reared back, her reaction automatic, borne of

fear, rehearsed a thousand times as Morty had taught her. Andthey hadnt even asked . . .

She stood with others at the Mannheim checkpoint, regretting

her decision to leave the safety of Martas Heidelberg apart-

ment and return to search for her uncle. The place was crawl-

ing with Nazis. A fat Gestapo man moved up close behind her

in line, his comrades shouting encouragement. Stella gasped

when his filthy wet mouth grazed her neck, the rankness ofstale beer and tobacco on his breath. When he began to touch

her, she lost control. Like a feral cat unleashed, she turned and

attacked him before several pairs of hands dragged her away.

Her satisfaction at the bloody welts shed raked along his face

exploded into pain with the first blow; the second knocked her

flat against the ground.

Afterward hed grabbed up her scattered papers and marchedwith them to the checkpoint table, stamping them in red with

the damning word that bought her passage on the next train

to Hell . . .

Im no Jew, she told the boy. Please dont say that again.

Hurt flashed in his eyes. Stella felt shamed by her defection,

as though shed left him alone to the fate of their race. Yet there

was no choice but to lie; she wouldnt burden him with that kind

of secret. She couldnt risk another . . .

She offered him a contrite smile. Id still like to be your

friend, Joseph. Ill need one in this place.


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His features brightened with a childs ready acceptance. Ill

have to teach you the rules, he said. The first is, stay away from

Captain Hermann. He hits the prisoners with his fists. Theboy cocked his head. And you look like a prisoner, Frulein.

Stella flushed. Anything else I should know?

Theres Sergeant Koch and Lieutenant Brucker. They just

like to hurt people. His gaze skittered to the floor. Especially

the older ones who cant defend themselves.

And the children, Joseph? she whispered, glancing at his

angry scab.He wouldnt look at her. Children too.

Stella swayed as she crouched against the floor; images ex-

ploded in her mind. Annas sweet face . . . brightest, most beau-

tiful star at Dachaus makeshift school . . . Anna . . . her own

precious child after Bella Horowitz died . . . Anna . . . small,

trembling hands . . . holding up a piece of cloth, a blouse to

cover Stellas nakedness as the guards dragged her toward theshooting pit . . . Anna . . . those little hands dragged behind

Stella . . . an explosion of gunfire . . .

Noooo! she cried, pulling the surprised boy into her arms.

Grief overwhelmed her as she held him close, the way she would

never again hold Anna; offering comfort and needing to be

comforted . . .

His small body stiffened an instant, then clung to her withunspoken ferocity. The two were strangers, yet in that moment

they were more closely linked in their desire for human touch

than any bond of blood.

Stella pressed her cheek to the unruly brown curls at the side

of his head, so baby soft against her skin. Where are your

parents? she finally managed to ask.

Dead, he whispered. Mama and Papa got real sick while

we were at Neuengamme.

Cold crept along her spine. Neuengamme?

A work camp. Near Hamburg, I think.


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How did you get here?

Herr Van dee Moss said I could be his assistant. He was

a famous painter in Amsterdam, so they let us both come toTheresienstadt. He died last summer.

The childs words trailed off against her shoulder. Stella could

only hug him again.

He finally raised his face to her. Will you pray for my mama

and papa . . . even though they were Jews?

How could she tell him God had abandoned their people?

Ill pray, she lied, holding back her bitterness.On my honor, Ill look out for you while you are here.

Stellas eyes burned at his earnest expression. Suddenly he

seemed much older than ten. Thank you, Joseph. Im proud

to know a man who still values honor.

He flushed at her praise. Please, we must go. Herr Kom-

mandant is waiting.

Stella rose from the bed, nauseated at the prospect of return-ing downstairs. Give me a minute. She then went to the bath-

room to wash most of the dirt and dried blood from her body.

Downstairs, glassware and silver clinked as they arrived at the

archway connecting the kitchen and dining areas. A silver-haired

woman wearing a bright green neckerchief with her black-and-

white service uniform bustled back and forth between the two

rooms.She halted before Stella and then raised a questioning brow

at the boy.

Helen, Joseph explained, meet Frulein Muller. To Stella,

he said, She doesnt speak, but she hears real good.

Helen. Stella forced a smile and offered a hand in greeting.

The other woman made no move to reciprocate and merely eyed

her with derision.

A water kettle on the stove whistled. Smells of sauerkraut,

fried onions, and something rancid seized Stellas nostrils as she

waited with mounting humiliation. Only when she started to


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withdraw her hand did the stout woman brusquely wipe her own

on the apron and thrust it at her. Helen didnt smile but merely

jerked her head in acknowledgment and returned to her tasks.Stellas face burned. She raised a self-conscious hand to the

stubble at her scalp.

Dont worry. Joseph squeezed her arm. Shes like that

with everyone.

Stella eyed him dubiously. Shed bet money the woman didnt

treat the colonel that way.

Helen swept back by them long enough to tug at a lock ofJosephs hair. She pointed to the dining room.

Come, Frulein. Supper is ready. Ill fetch Herr Komman-

dant. He pulled Stella through the archway into the dining

room before disappearing around the corner.

Helen might not be personable, but she set a beautiful table.

Stella eyed the snowy linen tablecloth. Two complete settings of

silver-rimmed china were placed at either end, while a milk-glassvase of holly, ripe with crimson berries, stood in the center. A

pair of beeswax candles burned along either side, dancing light

off polished brass holders.

A basket of fresh bread sat alongside the centerpiece. Stella

touched the rim of the basket, willfully resisting temptation

as she gazed into the flames. Similar candles once gleamed in

her own home on the eve of Shabbat.She recalled the reverentanticipation as her uncle made Kiddushover their wine, declar-

ing holiness to Gods day of rest. Afterward he would uncover

and bless the Challah, bread that God had provided them in

the desert

Frulein, you will sit here.

The colonel called to her from the opposite end of the table.

Stella snatched her hand away. This wasnt Challah or Shabbat.

Not in the Jew Killers house.

Overwhelmed by a sudden avalanche of anger, she marched

toward the chair he held for her. Nazis were the worst kind


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of thieves. They took everything, from the rabbis Tallithis

prayer shawlto the last matzowrapper, until nothing of Jew-

ishness remained. They had destroyed synagogues, families,lives. Faith . . .

Have you met Helen?

The colonel leaned to push in her chair. Stella stiffened,

assailed by his nearness, the spiced scent of his cologne. She

glanced at the aproned woman carrying in a water pitcher and

glasses. Ja, Herr Kommandant, she whispered.

The colonel took his place at the head of the table. Helen isnot only my housekeeper, but she is also my best-kept secret.

His remark drew both womens attention. Shes the finest

cook in all of Europe. Ive considered sending her to the Front,

armed with her baked Apfelstrudel. The smell alone would entice

a legion of soldiers to follow her into battle.

Helens cheeks flushed as she served them drinks.

She wont be leading battalions, however. He turned toStella. You will be her newest target, Fruleinpastries, pies,

dumplings, whatever it takes. Well start you out with smaller

portions, but I want you healthy as soon as possible.

Why?Stella wanted to ask. Even Helen looked surprised.

Yet the housekeeper merely met his glance and nodded before

leaving the room.

You do understand your part in this arrangement?Stella took great pains to smooth her napkin over her lap.

Eating.

And . . . ?

She felt heat crawl up her neck. Keeping it down.

Ah, your honesty, if not your enthusiasm, is refreshing.

An amused gleam lit his eyes, and she didnt know what

to make of it. Helen reappeared with a platter of steaming

food. Taking the colonels words to heart, she served Stella a

small helping of fried onions, sauerkraut, and a meat-stuffed

bell pepper. Stellas insides cramped with hunger, before she


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detected the peculiar odor shed smelled earlier in the kitchen.

Not beef . . .

Helen prepared this Gefllte Paprikathe Austrian way, hesaid from his place at the table. You should find it quite deli-

cious.

Pork. Stella stared at her plate, her stomach raging between

hunger and a sudden queasiness. She picked up her fork and

pushed aside the pepper before nibbling at her onions and sau-

erkraut.

You will sample everything, Frulein.She glanced up at the colonels mutinous expression. I . . .

I cannot.

Cannot? Or will not? Helen has gone to much trouble to

prepare this meal. And considering what youve had to eat in

the past, I would expect you to be grateful.

She lowered her gaze. I am, its . . . its just the bell pepper.

I get hives, she lied. Besides, Im not very hungry.I dont care if youre hungry or not, he said, ignoring her

statement. You may leave the pepper, but eat the filling.

She poked at the stuffed pepper and eyed the rest of her

meal wistfully. Shed been starved at Dachau; the Nazis used

hunger as a weapon, making the weak fall victim to disease

and death, while the strong grew feeble enough to be easily

managed.Shame pricked her. Any of those still suffering in that place

would gladly eat dog were it roasted on a spit and served up to

them. And the meek shall inherit the land . . .

Only the strong survived in it. Stella took a bite of the pork

and resisted an urge to gag. Three more and her stomach roiled.

Im sorry. Her fork clattered onto the plate. No more

That wasnt so terrible, was it? he cajoled. Soon youll

regain your strength.

Despair swept through her like an icy wind. Hed made her

defile herself before God.


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Youll need new clothing for your position as my secretary.

Helen will find you a suitable wardrobe.

She barely heard him. It was shewho had remained faithful;now shed failed.

Youre exhausted. He rose from his place at the table and

moved around behind her. Upstairs with you. Get some sleep.

Morning will arrive soon enough.

Helen had returned with a tray of cheese and dried fruit.

Helen, please help Frulein Muller to her room, he ordered.

I can manage. Yet as Stella started to rise, her knees gaveout. She grabbed at his arm to keep from falling.

Youre so thin, and much too weak, he said gruffly. Helen

will help until youre stronger. Meanwhile, I wont have you

falling down and cracking your skull.

Please, Im fine. She hated being treated like a child, or

worse, like an invalid. She pulled away and walked carefully

toward the stairs.On the wall at the foot of the landing she spied a painting she

hadnt noticed before. Larger than the watercolor in her room,

the oil-on-canvas scene was also quite different. Snowcapped

peaksthe Bavarian Alps, she guessedrose behind a castle of

gray rock and mortar that lay nestled in a green meadow. Hazy

clouds drifted in a blue sky, and beyond the meadow stood a

monastery, its bell tower visible in the distance.Oddly she found the image comforting. Stella imagined the

rich, loamy smell of grass as the cry of a solitary bell chimed

the hour. Her home in Mannheims bustling city had differed

greatly from this pastoral scene.

Again she felt a violent longing for what shed lost: her uncle

and their cheery apartment above his shop on the Roonstrasse;

her clerks job at the printing press manufacturer, Schnellpressen

AG, in neighboring Heidelberg; her best friend, Marta Kurtz.

Parties. Music. They were all gone, as if her former life had

never existed except in dreams.


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For Such a Time

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